


The Dirt Under Your Fingernails Doesn't Get To You As Much As The Dirt Under Your Skin Does

by kelmeckiss



Category: Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: 1xO5 coda, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, just an excuse to write pretty broken boy crying, marcus centric, no clear shipping, possibly ooc characters, saya/marcus tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 03:49:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelmeckiss/pseuds/kelmeckiss
Summary: An alternative ending to 1x05 of Deadly Class: Saudade.The gang makes their way back to the King's Dominion and Marcus deals with the aftermath of their 'shitty' day.I do not own any of these characters.





	The Dirt Under Your Fingernails Doesn't Get To You As Much As The Dirt Under Your Skin Does

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom which i took upon after realizing how tragically little amount of Deadly Class (TV) fanfictions were on this site.  
> I am not a native speaker and English is not my first language so feel free to correct any of my mistakes or typos. Any kind of feedback is welcome, thanks to anyone who reads this!  
> Also another disclaimer: due to the mood I'm in, it gets a tad bit melodramatic towards the ending, sorry for that, hah.  
> Enjoy! (I hope.)

If anything could be described as a 'pretty shitty day', it would definitely be this one. It probably couldn't get any worse than this.  
  
With buckling knees and swaying vision, with droplets of blood getting into his eyes, with the picture of Chico, mouth wide open in a surprised gasp and blood gushing from the open wound, burned on the inside of his eyelids, Marcus and the others made their way towards the car. If it wasn't for Willie and María supporting the majority of his weight, he would probably be lying in a heap on the ground back in that alley, next to Chico's lifeless body.  
  
Time was passing by in inconsistent episodes that flashed by like a film in a motion picture, bloody cinematography. One moment they were stumbling down the street, the next he was laid out on the backseat of the car, his legs bent at an awkward angle and partially stretched over Willie's legs, his head on the opposite side laying in María's lap, with no recollection whatsoever of how he got there. The engine was brought to life with a roar that reached Marcus' in a form of a sound resembling a wild animal and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, prickled with what must have been fear. The endless blue sky above him started to dim, an endless ocean theatening to swallow him up whole, rushing by as the vehicle gained speed.  
  
It was too much. The faint breeze fanning over his skin felt like a razor and he knew he couldn't take it, couldn't even think of it, what with every single movement of the car jarring his bruised ribs and the beast patiently lurking just on the edge of his consciousness. When the car ran over a bump on the highway once again, he could hear a whimper and it took him a while to realize that the sound left his own lips. He froze, strained muscles tensing, startled by the apparent sign of his own weakness, as if he wasn't already pathetic enough. They couldn't know, they couldn't notice now, if they haven't already. He will be mocked, he will be hurt, he will be punished, he wouldn't be able to fight, not now.  
  
"Shh, shhh, el cariño. Calm down Marcus, you're okay." he heard a voice sing somewhere above him, or maybe say, but then again, it could have been just the wind. He felt a hand card through his sweat-soaked hair and he momentarily flinched, tried to put distance between himself and whoever it was, only to let out another pitiful wince at the tug on his battered skin.¨  
  
"It's just me, you're safe." a shaky voice said and for some reason, he actually listened. His breathing eventually slowed down, his lungs tired from the exertion and even his heart settled down.  
  
The sky above him kept running away, away, changing colors with each passing second. He could seee himself, draped over the upholstery, over the unknown bodies, as if from bird's perspective. He really was fucked up.  
  
The effects of the drug should have been fading out by now but it seemed like they were only getting worse with every blink of his eyes, with every second that his eyelids dropped closed. He felt his face flush while his body trembled.  
  
Maybe he was, indeed, coming down from the LSD. Maybe it was his frayed nerves kicking in.  
  
"You shouldn't let him sleep, he probably has a concussion." sounded somewhere far, far away from him. Who was it, Saya? It must have been her.  
  
"Hear that? No sleep for you." María told him and ran her fingers through his tangled hair again, aware of his eyes already closing. She half-heartedly poked him in his shoulder - to no avail - but she couldn't bring herself to deprive him of the much needed sleep that he deserved.  
  
God knows they all did.  
  
\---------------------------  
  
Somewhere between falling asleep and fighting with Chico again, in beaming technicolor this time, in iridescent fireworks of light, between Chico blowing up into sparkles and those sparkles setting Marcus afire, he screamed himself awake for long enough to swallow a handful of pills and for yet another unfamiliar face to give him a condescending glare before he promptly fell asleep again.  
  
He couldn't see the worried glances that both of the girls (and occasionally Willie) kept sending his direction, where he more laid than sat in the armchair of some retired doctor's safehouse. They all got checked out for any major injuries but the old man's main concern was Billy and his wound and then Marcus and his ribs and multiple other lacerations. The man didn't talk much, or at all, but the gang unspokenly agreed on it probably being a good thing. Once they were all patched up, they all received their dose of Valium.  
  
The second part of the drive was even more quiet then the first one, with the majority of them (the boys) sleeping, María silently sobbing in the backseat and Saya behind the wheel, checking the back mirror every few minutes, just to make sure that they were all there, all relatively safe, even though not completely unharmed. If anyone asked her why she did it, she would probably make up a lie about checking if they were getting any blood on the upholstery since it was a bitch to clean off.  
  
She couldn't help but be grateful for the silence that fell over them.  
She couldn't help but be grateful that no one saw her eyes linger on the reflection of María's lips on Marcus' forehead.  
  
\--------------------------  
  
She could see the city landscape of San Francisco gleaming in the forenoon sun as she drove through the suburbian streets. Slowly but surely, the others started waking up on their own accord. Soon after that, compared to the rest of their journey, she parked the car in a spot close to the King Dominion's building complex and killed the engine. One by one, the passengers left the car, Willie supporting Billy and María trying to shake Marcus awake. After a few failed attempts, she checked that he was in fact only sleeping and too out of it to wake up and not anything worse.  
  
"You can leave him there, he'll wake up eventually. I'm gonna work on the car anyway." Saya commented. It wasn't a complete lie, about halfway on the way home, she noticed an inharmonic hum coming from the engine and a bit of manual work while which she could just turn her mind off surely wouldn't hurt.  
  
María just gave her a look that implied doubt and possibly suspicion with a hint of mistrust but she didn't say anything, probably too tired herself to actually act on her assumptions, so she simply nodded, stole one last glance at Marcus' unconscious form before turning away and trailing after the others.  
  
Saya looked after her as she walked away and then she got to work. She hated to admit it but she actually enjoyed having a couple of hours to herself every now and then, not that she could afford that luxury too often, not in a place like this. No one gave a flying fuck whether you wanted to be surrounded by idiots looking for a fight at all times of the day. If she can escape it, just for a few more hours, she will. Going back to school, to the overflowing halls where tension could be cut in pieces meant that their trip was over and that the consequences of their actions will surely follow right after they walk through the door. No, not now. Not yet.  
  
Saya wiped her hands and with a sigh, lowered the hood of the car. She looked over at where Marcus was still laying and she expected the boy to still be asleep but to her surprise, she saw that his bloodshot eyes were open. She stepped closer and saw the wet trails on his pale cheeks.  
  
"I'm a killer." he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. A new wave of tears slipped down his face, while his eyes stayed fixated still on an uncertain point somewhere above him.  
  
"I'm a killer, i killed them. What will they think? What will my parents think?" he started chanting, voice still quite but more franctic now, like a mad prayer.  
  
Saya held her breath for a second before she could bring herself to answer.  
  
"Your parents are dead, Marcus."  
  
Simple as that, ripping off the band-aid, painless and quick and instead striking a punch in the stomach. A pair of terrified chocolate eyes snapped to her suddenly, the uncertain point somewhere above them forgotten. Marcus sat up, ignored his whole body protesting at the sudden movement, he shook, trembled, reached his hand out towards where Saya stood, a question stark clear in hazy eyes.  
  
"Did I-, did i kill them too?"  
  
A broken boy. Face beaten up, bruised, scarred. Tears still dripping from those huge tired eyes. Hair a mess atop his head, only giving a guess as to what kind of mess existed on the inside. Blood under the fingernails, blood in palms, where those nails sank too deep, or perhaps deep enough.  
Sometimes she forgot that not everyone was born into this. Sometimes she forgot that the dirt under your fingernails didn't get to you as much as the dirt under your skin did.  
  
"Your parents died when you were just a boy, none of it was your fault." ' _You were the victim_ ' goes unsaid.  
  
"Good, good." he deflated with the overwhelming relief and sank back into the leather seat. What kind of fucked up lives did they live, that questions like that had to be answered and that answer like those were a reason to cheer. A school for assassins but who really were those killed, who was the dead one in the end, the man who got shot or the man, the boy, behind the trigger?  
  
Without thinking about it too much, Saya opened the side doors and got in the seat behind Marcus, where María sat just hours prior. If it was anyone else, they would probably be reluctant about her actions or unwilling to accept any possibility of comfort or affection, but this was Marcus, and Marcus just laid on her chest, pressed closer and silently wept.


End file.
